Love's Golden Spell

by William Maltese

  “Well?” Janet asked.

  “Let’s sleep another hour,” he suggested. His voice was muffled by the sheet and blanket across his face.

  “Let’s not!” she insisted, uncovering him from his head to the tight golden curls on his lower stomach. As always, she marveled at the sensuous perfection of his body.

  “You have something better in mind?” he asked playfully and slyly winked.

  “What did the assay reports say?” she asked. He was teasing her. Either that or one of the last reports was positive, and he was sparing her the news. Bad news for Janet. Good news for Van Hoon Afrikaner Minerals.

  “You have this virile hunk in bed with you, and all you can think about is assay reports?” Christopher asked in mock disbelief. “I must be losing my sex appeal in my old age.”

  “One of the assay reports is positive!” she said. She truly believed it; it was just her luck. The final samples to be taken at Great Zimbabwe had been shipped to Salisbury the night before, and substantial gold might well have been discovered in one of those last possible sources. “Please, tell me the truth.”

  “Oh, there’s gold all right,” he said. The teasing had gone far enough. “We’ve always known there’s gold. The question is whether or not we can get it out at a profit.”

  “And?” Janet prodded.

  “We can’t,” he said with a wide smile.

  “You can’t?” Janet asked, needing to hear it again. Even then, she wouldn’t believe it. “C-A-N-N-O-T?”

  “That’s R-I-G-H-T!” he answered. “The price of gold would have to skyrocket substantially before we could make any profit on what’s left around here.” She knelt on the bed beside him, and his eyes caught the new happiness in her own. “Why does that news please me?” he asked. “Because it pleases you—although a feasible gold extraction here could have been oh so good for company profits.” Taking her arm, he pulled her gently down to him. “What do you say to the two of us heading back to Lionspride and making those long overdue wedding plans to console me and help you celebrate?”

  “Soon, but not this very minute,” she said, uncovering the rest of him.

  She should have been the happiest woman alive. She had been close to that when she’d found out Christopher had had no part in killing Melissa and Suzy. He had turned their horns over to Lieutenant Walkford, who turned them over to Craig. Yesterday Craig told her and Christopher that the horns had been shipped off to whatever bureaucratic office in Salisbury took care of such contraband. Now, with no major deposits of gold in the Great Zimbabwe Reserve, its animals—at least those without valuable horns and tusks—should have a chance to live out their lives in peace.

  Except that there was another problem: the sizable yellow stone she had transferred from the glove compartment of the Land Rover to the bottom drawer of her hotel dresser. There it rested, beneath a couple of folded blouses. Whatever threat to her happiness had ridden on the gold or lack of gold at Great Zimbabwe, it dimmed in comparison to this new threat of her own making.

  She could hand the stone over to Christopher and know within seconds its estimated value. There would be blissful happiness if it was a pretty stone and nothing more. There would be wretched despair if it was a diamond, because Christopher would convert from lover to ruthless businessman as quickly as Dr. Jekyll ever changed into Mr. Hyde. He would persuade her to tell him where she’d found it, because she was helpless to resist her love for him. There would be more weeks spent on the spot while a V.H.A.M. team decided if there were more diamonds worth exploiting. Any news that leaked out would bring thousands of prospectors on the run to the Great Zimbabwe Reserve—none of them particularly interested in ecology.

  “That doesn’t seem to be an expression of unmitigated joy on your beautiful face,” Christopher observed, nestling closer to her on the bed. “Are you disappointed that our relationship wasn’t put through the acid test to see if it would survive?”

  “I’m glad there’s no gold,” she said, committing herself to no more than that.

  “Gold or no gold, our relationship would have held fast,” he guaranteed. “I believe that, and you do, too. There should have been gold if for no other reason than to prove we have something that can survive against all odds and emerge stronger because of the struggle.”

  She wanted to believe it, because the yellow stone in the dresser was an acid eating away at their love for as long as she kept the rock hidden from him. She should have left it in the stream or spontaneously thrown it back when she’d had the chance. There was no throwing it back now. Doing so would be her admission that their love couldn’t survive the test.

  She had promised herself no more second-class love. Marrying Bob had been the mistake to prove for sure that settling for less was never better. She had told Christopher she was Janet Kelley, because she had wanted to be sure their love was strong enough to surmount old obstacles. And it was. However, she had risked all that before she had found out that the ecstasy of loving Christopher was something she could never bear to lose again. Now she was beyond the point of willingly sacrificing what she had on any further all-or-nothing gambles.

  The importance of her newfound happiness was brought forcefully home to her by the thrilling rush that warmed and excited her whenever she was near him. He didn’t even have to touch her. She simply couldn’t bear the thought of spending her life without him or waking up to his empty pillow day after day. No man could give her more. She didn’t need more. She didn’t have to spoil it. The yellow stone was her secret.

  That it was a secret, though, was a danger in itself. Beginning her marriage with something like that bottled up inside her was no way to strengthen and build a relationship. If only she could be sure she had a worthless rock on her hands!

  It wasn’t as if she could take her find to a reputable jeweler in Johannesburg, not as long as there was the faintest chance it was a diamond. The South African government had stringent rules and regulations about the possession, sale and transfer of all diamonds. Not even the fiancée of Christopher Van Hoon walked in off the street and asked about the potential value of an uncut stone without setting off a chain reaction. There would be questions from Christopher and from government authorities, who would be curious as to how she had obtained a diamond nowhere recorded in their minutely detailed mine inventories.

  She was damned if she did. She was damned if she didn’t. If she hadn’t found the blasted thing, everything would be so perfect! She shouldn’t have bolted when she’d seen Christopher knocking off Melissa’s horns. Common sense should have told her there was a logical explanation—which there was. But she had run off impetuously, had fished herself a pretty rock and a whole bag of trouble out of a stream.

  She kissed the spot where Christopher’s strong neck met his muscular shoulder. His hand gently cupped her head, to bring her lips nearer to his, but the motion was interrupted as a sudden unexpected vibration shook the room. “Earthquake?” she immediately asked in a frightened voice. She had been in an earthquake in California. Any massive shifting of land wasn’t something she cared to have repeated.

  “No,” he said, and put a finger to her lips for silence. He got up and went to the window. Sound accompanied the vibration beneath his feet. He parted the curtains far enough to see outside. “Get dressed!” he whispered.

  Suddenly Janet remembered how the ground had vibrated during the stampede. “Elephants?” she asked nervously. There was a movie called Elephant Walk, in which a whole herd came rampaging through a plantation house.

  “Not elephants, either. In fact, it’s probably nothing,” he assured her. “But whatever it is, we’ll be best able to handle it if we’re dressed.”

  She scrambled for her clothes, which she’d hastily discarded the night before. Christopher pulled on his pants, his shirt and walked quickly across the room to the dresser. He took a pistol from the top drawer, checking to make sure it was loaded.

  “What’s going on out there, Christopher?” Janet
persisted. If a gun was presently necessary, that at least insinuated something out of the ordinary. She would have looked out the window herself, but getting dressed seemed more important at the moment.

  “It’s a troop convoy,” Christopher said, “and a big one—headed for the military encampment by the looks of it. Three trucks, though, have pulled into the hotel parking lot. Armed soldiers are holding some of Captain Sylo’s men, ushered from the hotel office, at gunpoint.”

  “Maybe the soldiers are merely reinforcements,” Janet suggested feebly. “Craig certainly could use them.”

  “Maybe they are,” Christopher said but didn’t seem convinced. “But neither reinforcements nor replacements would be acting like siege troops,” he added. Janet joined him at the window, and they watched for a moment, unable to comprehend the scene any better. “Here comes someone who might have the answers,” Christopher commented as a car pulled next to the trucks. The doors opened, and four men got out. Only three of them wore uniforms.

  “Dr. Nhari!” Janet said, identifying the fourth as the chief of the elephant tagging team that Craig had evacuated to Salisbury.

  “So it is,” Christopher agreed. “Think he got tired of waiting for Captain Sylo to call him back?” Craig had never mentioned anything about the doctor’s return. Janet didn’t know what to think. “Take this,” Christopher said, offering her the pistol.

  “I won’t use it!” she protested.

  “Never say never.” His words scared her, but she knew she had to face facts. A military coup of any kind in volatile Zimbabwe could mean real trouble for civilians caught in the crossfire.

  “Why? Where are you going?” she asked. She didn’t want him to go anywhere. Those soldiers had guns. Craig’s parents had been killed not that far away and not that long ago. She didn’t want Christopher to die—not after all they’d gone through to get this far.

  “It’ll be easier to get answers while there’s a familiar face in the crowd,” he said.

  “Then I’m coming with you!” she insisted. There was no way he was leaving her. If he died, she would rather die with him than go on alone.

  “Maybe I can persuade him to come to us,” Christopher suggested. “I have to admit I’m not all that keen on either of us getting shot. It’s worth a try.” He walked to the phone and dialed the front desk.

  The blond corporal who usually operated the hotel switchboard had been one of those escorted out on the lawn. He and the rest of his duty group from the hotel office were being watched over by several newcomers with machine guns.

  “Someone is going inside for the phone,” Janet informed.

  “The corporal?” Christopher asked.

  Janet shook her head. “He started to go, but Nhari said something, and one of the military men from the car went instead.”

  Christopher responded to a voice on the other end of the phone. “This is Christopher Van Hoon. Could you put Dr. Nhari on the line, please.” He covered the mouthpiece. “What’s happening?” he asked Janet.

  “The military man is at the office door,” Janet answered. “Dr. Nhari is following him inside.”

  “Doctor,” Christopher said on the phone a few seconds later, “Christopher Van Hoon here. Yes. Mrs. Westover and I were wondering if you could explain all the troop activity this morning.” He listened. “You remember my room?” he asked. “And doctor, come alone, won’t you? I do have a gun.” He replaced the receiver and came back to the window. He put a protective arm around Janet. She gained comfort and strength from his presence, not sure how she would have reacted on her own. “He’s coming over for a little chat,” Christopher said. “He says there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Dr. Nhari reappeared at the office doorway. He circumvented the milling soldiers outside and was soon greeting Janet and Christopher inside the latter’s room. He didn’t have to ask what Janet was doing there at that hour of the morning. He smiled when Christopher frisked him. “Sorry to drop in on you without forewarning,” he said. “Under the circumstances, it was decided a surprise visit was best.”

  “What circumstances?” Janet asked. Surely Dr. Nhari couldn’t be involved in anything illegal. “Best for whom?”

  “The authorities in Salisbury got a hot tip from a reliable source regarding the location of a large cache of ivory collected by the poachers who have been operating on the Great Zimbabwe Reserve,” Dr. Nhari explained. “A break like this doesn’t come along every day, and Salisbury is determined to make the best of it. Since it’s obvious someone in Captain Sylo’s camp is leaking vital information to the poachers, the plan is to launch an independent operation under Major Jenkins, making damned sure all of Sylo’s men are present and accounted for right up until zero hour. I had enough pull in Salisbury to get assigned as an advisor to the major’s team. I’m well acquainted with the reserve, whereas. Major Jenkins isn’t.”

  “Craig will be glad to hear there’s been a breakthrough,” Janet said. She was more at ease. The doctor’s statement made sense.

  “I hope that’s the case,” Dr. Nhari said, although he sounded doubtful. “The captain keeps insisting he has everything under control, but it’s obvious he hasn’t. He shouldn’t have been allowed a free rein as long as he has, but that’s finally been rectified. Major Jenkins has brought along Captain Sylo’s replacement. As of this moment, Captain Sylo no longer has any say around here.”

  Christopher didn’t say anything. Janet knew what he thought of Craig. Here were two men, one of whom she loved, and both of whom she respected—neither impressed by Craig Sylo. Her own favorable impression of the man was colored by her emotional state at the time she had met him. Out to find someone or something as a diversion from Christopher, she had thought Craig perfect for the part. “He’s certainly tried his best to get the poachers,” Janet insisted. She wasn’t a fair-weather friend, and she wasn’t deserting anybody until more evidence was in, especially since Craig had been responsible for getting her and Christopher back together by suggesting they talk at Victoria Falls. And he had tried again when he was unsuccessful in evacuating the V.H.A.M. team, that time asking Janet to stay on.

  “If a good many dead elephants could rise up and talk, they would tell you his best wasn’t enough,” Dr. Nhari said. “‘For the sake of the few elephants left alive on the reserve, I hope Captain Sylo welcomes this breakthrough with the enthusiasm it warrants.”

  “He will!” Janet assured the doctor defensively. Dr. Nhari might doubt it, but Craig wouldn’t begrudge a solution to the problem just because he hadn’t come up with it himself. If he did, he wasn’t the man Janet thought he was.

  But she had to admit she wasn’t always a perfect judge of character. She’d made mistakes—such as the one she’d made with that writer friend of Bob. She thought he had asked her to supper as a courtesy after Bob’s death, but he had had other things in mind. She had been genuinely surprised by his pass. She hadn’t pegged Christopher right, either—not in the beginning. She had seen him as someone intent upon punishing a woman who was trying to besmirch the Van Hoon name.

  “When is the raid on the cache taking place?” Christopher asked.

  “We’ll head out within the hour,” Dr. Nhari said. He chose one of the available chairs and sat in it. “Jenkins would prefer being assured he’s snared all of Sylo’s troops, but a roll call to be sure would take too long. Even if word gets through to the poachers, though, there won’t be time for anyone to clear out all the incriminating evidence—too much of it. Still, the sooner we move the better. We would like to nab at least a couple of the culprits.”

  “I want to come with you,” Christopher said.

  “No!” Janet protested. She didn’t believe her ears.

  “I want to go along, Janet,” he insisted, turning toward her.

  “But why needlessly expose yourself to danger?” she asked. The poachers weren’t giving up the fruits of their labors without a fight. Getting involved was an unfeeling risk on his part, considering how worried
she would be about him.

  “Yes, why?” Dr. Nhari asked, curious himself. “Major Jenkins will appreciate your offer, but why get involved?”

  “The bastards killed one of my men, that’s why,” Christopher reminded. “They made his wife a widow and his children fatherless. I owe it to Paul Spencer to be there when his killers are brought to justice. I owe it to his wife and kids, and to myself.”

  “Admirable sentiments,” Dr. Nhari admitted, “but I suspect that Major Jenkins will prefer that you stay here. It would be too embarrassing if the Christopher Van Hoon ended up dead in a Zimbabwe shoot-out.” He turned to Janet. “Nor would it do to have a famous American television personality wounded or killed.”

  He had anticipated her asking to go along. The blow-by-blow description of flushing out poachers was perfect for a dramatic television report. But joining the attack group was the last thing on Janet’s mind. She had too much of what she wanted out of life to risk it on some harebrained adventure without even a camera crew to record her efforts. She resented Christopher’s volunteering, but she understood. He was a friend of the dead man and his family. But neither Janet nor Christopher would have a family if Christopher got killed.

  “I might remind you to remind Major Jenkins that I have friends in high places,” Christopher said.

  “We could bring Captain Sylo in to verify that, couldn’t we?” Dr. Nhari observed with wry humor. “The captain’s efforts to remove you and your team from Great Zimbabwe were certainly nipped in the bud by a few of your phone calls, but Major Jenkins might be less willing to give you access to an outside line.”

  “Then there’ll be phone calls afterward,” Christopher guaranteed. “Just because Van Hoon Afrikaner Minerals hasn’t come up with any gold at Great Zimbabwe doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have its tentacles in enough other pies to assure me the continued goodwill of your government and its supporting military hierarchy. The latter are always on the lookout for those among their ranks who show potential for upward mobility.”